


Render Unto the Victor

by misura



Category: Chronicles of Amber - Roger Zelazny
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Blow Jobs, Enemies With Benefits, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26066101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: A Prince of Amber always pays his debts.
Relationships: Corwin/Eric (Chronicles of Amber)
Kudos: 8





	Render Unto the Victor

"I suppose it was too much to expect your skills at this to be any less poor than your skills with a blade," Eric said, but he was breathing hard now, and I knew that if I put in some extra effort, I'd have him.

Given the circumstances, I was less than inclined to do so. True, at least that would mean the whole matter was over and done with - until the next time, that was.

We both knew there would be one: me, because my honor demanded it, and Eric - well.

Perhaps Eric might not be so eager for a rematch, after all. Something for me to consider while deciding how to go about this. I might even term it a nice distraction.

As if reading the direction my thoughts were headed in, he chose that moment to grab my hair. It was mildly painful and did not leave me inclined to do him any favors.

"Still, if nothing else, at least your silence is a blessing," he said, moving in a way suggesting he was getting impatient. Or perhaps he had simply wearied of the game.

For a moment, I allowed myself to toy with the idea that Eric no more enjoyed this than I did, but then reality reasserted itself. This was Eric, after all. Any victory over me, however small or great, would be savored.

I could have resisted, I suppose, or made things more difficult for him, but I felt myself disinclined. We had made a bet; we had dueled; he had won, and I had lost, though it had been a close thing.

A Prince of Amber always pays his debts.

Eric made a half-choked sound. Petty as always, I thought: had our positions been reversed, I would have felt little compunction about letting him know how much I had enjoyed myself.

Not above a bit of pettiness myself and Eric having kindly returned the use of my mouth to me, I spat.

He chuckled a little, as if knowing such an act did little to dispell the bitter taste of defeat.

"I would like to think this has been a lesson to you," he said, "but we both know you are not so easily taught as that."

"By the likes of you? Never," I said. I considered getting up from the floor. My knees felt like they would hold me. Probably. I disliked the notion of Eric seeing me affected by what had happened between us. He had received entirely too much satisfaction from me on this day already.

"Should you wish a rematch, you need but ask," he said. There was a note of eagerness to his voice. I could tell he had tried to conceal it, but subtlety had never been one of Eric's strengths.

"Good to know." I would ask. We both knew that much. Whether or not this time, I would beat him was a more difficult question to answer. I knew I had the skills. More, I knew I was the better man, in all ways that counted.

True, he had beaten me today. A matter of luck, I told myself, though I knew I did not quite believe it.

He put his hand on my head. I realized that I should have risen after all, to prevent him.

"A word of advise, brother dear. Find a way to improve your skills, first. I would not wish to win again as easily as I did today."

I considered killing him. Instead, I contented myself with shaking off his hand. "You may come to regret those words, dear Eric. In fact, I am certain that you will."

He moved as if to touch me again. I rose, facing him, and whatever he read on my face halted his movement.

"It was an honorable duel, honorably fought," he said.

"So will be the next one," I said, "with the one difference that I will win that one, and then I will be the one to stand in judgment over your skills. We'll see how well you like it."

He smiled at that, faintly, but I thought I detected a hint of doubt, of uncertainty. "Perhaps."

There being nothing left to say, I left him to his worrying.


End file.
